After a month of fairly frantic packing and planning when nothing about the trip seems real, two things are guaranteed to bring it all home: waving a teary parent off at airport security, and the smell of exotic currency. My Baht procured at Heathrow are not quite as fragrant as (Sierra) Leones, but there's a definite hint of humid oriental evenings about them. Or is it warm Play-Doh? It's evocative of something, anyhow.
In a sign of the deepening economic doom facing the UK, Terminal 4's Champagne and Oyster Bar seems to be no more :-( Weatherspoons is doing a roaring trade...
Thanks for all your messages wishing me bon voyage. Keep well in Bankrupt Blighty folks.
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2 comments:
Just realised i've been reading your blog backwards... I'm a whizz with technology. x
Hello Fred
Think of all the lovely weather you are missing - snow snow and more snow. I arrived in Belfast tonight at 6p.m. after leaving Hastings at 8a.m. It used to be quicker by boat. Hope you are still enjoying yourself - look forward to reading all about it. Love from Alastair and myself.
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